This is the First Day of the Rest of Your Death
by BackForBreakfast
Summary: We all know what happened to Lister when he was let out of stasis, but what happened to Rimmer when he was regenerated as a hologram...and didn't realise it? Finally complete!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic, and I'm not making any money out of it. :) Yay!

A/N: I have been itching to write this for ages! I thought it'd be really interesting to take a look at Rimmer's point of view when he was regenerated as a hologram, but didn't realise it. We all know how Lister reacted when he was let out of stasis, but what happened to his bunkmate?

This is based more on the novels than the TV show, but they're very similar anyway so that shouldn't pose any problems! Rimmer's death in the novels does not take place in the Drive Room as it does in the TV show, so that explains the beginning of this fic if you haven't read them. :) I hope you enjoy! All comments are much appreciated!

**This is the First Day of the Rest of Your Death**

**---A Red Dwarf Fanfiction---**

Three million years after his death, Arnold Rimmer blinked.

_Strange_, he thought, peering about the room. At first glance, he didn't recognise it. Row upon row of complicated computer consoles lined the walls, buttons beeping, lights flashing on and off in a hypnotic, monotonous manner. A large, grey machine which dominated the chamber chattered noisily before churning out a tiny readout barely bigger than the palm of his hand.

The Drive Room? Why was he in the Drive Room? He certainly couldn't remember going there. There was an eerie silence, and he suddenly felt as if a thousand eyes were upon him, watching and waiting from the shadows of the giant pipes which wound their way up the walls like a metallic, choking ivy. He took a few silent steps forward before it dawned upon him. The last time he had been here, an eager Third Technician, newly enrolled on Red Dwarf and full of boyish enthusiasm, the room had been filled with people; people at the pinnacle of their careers, talking of porous circuits and astrophysics, discussing the very running of the ship itself.

Now it was silent. And it was not just any silence, but an unnerving one. A silence about which something, Rimmer knew for certain, was amiss.

"Welcome back." A voice from nowhere. For a moment Rimmer's heart began to pound, and he clutched his hand instinctively to his chest. Then he realised who it was, and felt rather sheepish. The disembodied voice belonged to Holly, the ship's computer; although there was something different about it. It was more relaxed, less ordered and impersonal, more laid-back and genuine.

"Over here," said Holly. Rimmer turned around to reveal Holly's enormous monitor, the computer's digitalised face pulled into a knowing half-smile. Rimmer only felt even smaller in his presence; coupled with the stillness in the Drive Room, he felt as if he could easily fit on the head of a pin.

"Where the smeg is everybody?" he asked, rather more meekly than he would have liked. Holly thought for a moment.

"Well," he said, mulling it over, his huge eyes narrowing in concentration, "I suppose you could say they're still here." He paused, "If we're talking literally, anyway." Rimmer quickly felt his initial nervousness giving way to slight irritation, but he tried his hardest to keep it hidden. Unfortunately, for Rimmer this was a difficult task.

"Still here?" he repeated, glancing over his shoulder. There was nobody to be seen. He looked back at Holly expectantly. "Well I'd say they were doing a pretty darn good job of hiding themselves!"

Holly rolled his computerised eyes in a perfect circle. It was the same thing he'd done when he'd run the results through his database, searching the files and records of the entire crew for the person most suitable, with the highest compatibility rating, to keep Dave Lister sane. He'd checked once, twice, and for good measure (and in slight hope that he'd made an error in his calculations) a third time, and on each occasion the same result whirred out: ARNOLD J. RIMMER, TECHNICIAN, SECOND CLASS.

"Look," said Holly, trying to reason with him, "I'm not trying to pull the wool over your eyes, but it's a rather…" he searched his file bank for the best word, "…_delicate_ situation."

Rimmer was not one for cryptic clues. "Well however delicate it may be," he said, "I'm sure I am perfectly capable of dealing with it, thank you so very much." When Holly continued to deliberate, Rimmer's surface-calmness quickly disintegrated. "Out with it," he snapped, "before I jam your cables into a cleaning bucket and fry you like an English breakfast." Holly sighed. Why _Rimmer?_ The rare encounters he'd had with him during his long shift aboard the Dwarf were less than pleasant, and usually consisted of a few snappy exchanges, and on occasion, the odd insult. Holly quickly ran a search through his database and found exactly 1,166 crewmembers with whom life would have been a whole lot more bearable. Fate, he decided, was unnecessarily cruel.

"Take a look behind you, Arnold," he said eventually. His core programming stated that the most efficient way to reveal bad news was to reveal it slowly – though whether this data had been corrupted over the years, he didn't know. The mischievous part of him wanted to be extra malicious, and drop the whole bomb, "H" and all, in one fell swoop. _That'd show him_, he thought, smiling to himself.But luckily for Rimmer, he still had the sense to do otherwise.

Sitting in tiny mounds about the Drive Room were countless piles of white powder. They were scattered so randomly that the effect was as if a manic coffee-drinker had gone for more sugar and repeatedly missed his cup. Some were arranged in pairs, others in large groups; some sat on the chairs and yet more lay messily across the consoles. Before Rimmer had a chance to inquire as to what these mysterious mounds could be, Holly's voice once again filled the chamber.

"The Navigation Officers," he said in a mournful tone. "Over there," he nodded his huge head, "the Console Operators, and here," he turned his head once again, "First Technicians and Catering Officers." He paused, "Though you can't really notice the difference, to tell the truth."

"What?" Rimmer said, rather weakly, trying to come to terms with this huge, indigestible chunk of information. He walked blindly to one of the consoles and stared for a while, eyeing the mounds of dust, at first with great suspicion. "How did this happen?"

If he'd had shoulders, Holly would have shrugged. "Radiation leak," he said. "Cadmium II. Lethal on impact." Holly thought to himself. Those three simple statements equalled the total annihilation of the crew of Red Dwarf. At first, he had been desperately sad. But over the years, the sadness gave way to acceptance and eventually numbness, filling that gaping void with a nonchalance that was slightly shocking. But Holly had been alone for three million years – and he thought he'd gone a bit peculiar, to tell you the truth.

"When?" asked Rimmer. It still hadn't registered. He tried to remember his last night on record. The memory was hazy, as if newly-formed. The only thing he could remember was a corridor, lost somewhere in the bowels of the ship. The wheel of a stasis booth shone brightly in front of him. He'd grasped it with both hands and turned it, heard the familiar _cha-chunk _of the stasis door opening… and then this. He swallowed, "So everybody…they're all dead?"

"Mostly everybody, yes," Holly admitted.

"_Mostly_?" Rimmer repeated, his voice twinged with a mix of curiosity and dread. _Oh smeg_, he thought to himself. _It's bound to be him, isn't it. Of all the people…_

"Petrovich too, Arnold."

The thought that entered Rimmer's mind when he heard this news made him feel slightly guilty. Petrovich, the trumped-up little goit, the younger, better-looking, all-around good guy waiting for promotion to officer class, cut down in his prime… whilst Arnold Rimmer lived to tell the tale! A small smirk crept upon his face, which he quickly tried to hide with a desperately false grimace. It didn't matter though; Holly knew how he felt. Access to the hologrammatic projection unit gave him unlimited insight into the generated subject; though in this case, Holly wasn't quite sure he wanted it.

"How tragic," Rimmer lied. "So who made it then? The Captain?"

"No, Arnold."

"Well then, _who_?" Getting irritated again. Holly had had enough; it was time to unleash the first blow.

"Dave Lister," he said smugly.

Rimmer's jaw visibly dropped. _Lister?_ He could understand if it was one of the First Officers, someone high-in-command and worthy of respect, but _Lister?_ The man who ate his own toenail clippings in front of his superior and gave each their own imaginary flavour? The word 'injustice' didn't even begin to suffice. But hey, it could have been worse, Rimmer thought. I could have died as well.

_To be continued…_

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Please review! I'd love to hear what you think of this! 


	2. Chapter 2

For the disclaimer, please see the first chapter.

A/N: Thanks so much everyone for your kind reviews :) I really enjoyed reading them! Here are my responses!

**cazflibs:** Thank you! I agree with you about the amount of fics written about series I! This is my first attempt at one – I've tried to make Rimmer a little meaner here as he comes across that way in that series before he softens up a little. :) But it's great fun to write!

**staticrhubarb:** hehe, that's too true! I hope you enjoy this chapter! The bombshell is partially revealed, as you'll see! I've been too evil with the ending this time! XD I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!

**Sunrise over the Tango factory:** Thank you so much! Hehe, there was so much to reveal to him that it was really fun to think of ways to do it :) I'm so glad you're enjoying this fic so far!

**Zombie Kitty:** Thank you! Hehe, yeah there are bound to be a few factual errors in here XD The book and TV show contradict so much and this is sort of a melding of the two, so there's things all over the place! Thanks so much for your kind review!

**Star-Stallion:** Hey there! Thanks so much for reviewing! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I don't usually update again this quickly but this seems to just be flowing off my keyboard! I think I have a Red Dwarf plot bunny on my hands!

**WildfireDreams:** Yay! I have so much sympathy for Rimmer when I watched Red Dwarf so I'm so glad this comes across in my writing! Thank you so much for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I think I've been rather evil with the ending of this chapter XD I don't usually write endings like that but I thought it was a neat place to stop. :) I hope you enjoy! All reviews are much appreciated, and I will reply to any comments you have! So, without further ado…

**This is the First Day of the Rest of Your Death**

**--Chapter Two--**

"So come on then," Rimmer said, disappointment still etched upon his face, "where is he?"

"On last check, the shopping mall," Holly replied. The man was in a terrible state. Holly had watched, half in disbelief, at Lister's drunken rages. The news that the human race was extinct, that his dream of returning to Earth was now almost certainly impossible, had taken a great toll on his sanity. He simply couldn't cope. Holly felt a great deal of sympathy as he watched him stumble aimlessly about, all ambition and drive drained out of his now pointless existence. At one point, a quite disturbing thought occurred to him. _Maybe I should have left him_, he'd thought. _Maybe I should have never let him out_. He'd quickly shaken it off.

"What's he doing there?" asked Rimmer irritably. The mall was floors away, and the prospect of a three-hour lift ride did little to lighten his mood.

"He's in a bit of a state," said Holly. "I don't think he knows where he is, to be perfectly honest. The news came as quite a shock to him."

"News?" Rimmer echoed. "What news?" He creased his brow in confusion. Time for bombshell number two.

"The news," said Holly, "that at this particular moment, we are precisely three million years away from Earth."

At first, this statement did not sink in. Rimmer mulled over it for a while, the enormous digit doing circles in his mind. Three million years was such a ridiculous, no, _impossible_ figure that it didn't bear worth thinking about. One million years was bad enough; three was taking the smeg.

"Three million…" Rimmer's voice trailed off. He thought for a while. "And the human race?"

"Extinct, I'm afraid."

The thought then occurred to Rimmer that this was much more serious than he'd first imagined. First the sudden death of the crew, but now to learn that the entire human race was gone? Wiped out? And at that moment, a vision appeared to him; he was seated at the captain's table, decked in the glorious white uniform of the Space Corps. A bowl of hot, steaming Gazpacho soup stared up at him, sneering, whilst all around the table officers hooted and jeered, their faces red from laughter and wine. He felt all blood drain from his face, turning it a sickly, ghoulish white. He would never obtain that elusive gold bar. There was no-one to _give_ him that gold bar. And a single word escaped his lips.

"…Smeg."

Lister wandered hazily through the main walkway of the Red Dwarf shopping mall and took another swig from his whisky bottle. He had no interest in looking for bargains. This was just another room in the ship to him. Rows of shops lined the walls, each advertising their products in glowing, obtrusive neon letters. Some had fared better than others. Even to Lister, the food shops were a definite no-go. In the fashion section, moth-eaten clothes hung from lonely hangers, whilst some had disintegrated altogether. It was a desolate, miserable, depressing place to be – and Lister fit right in.

He shouted something incoherent, and thrust the half-empty bottle in front of him as if to make some sort of crude, threatening gesture. He wasn't sure if the hallucinations were caused by the drink, or if they were purely a product of the loneliness which gnawed constantly at his insides; or indeed, a bizarre combination of the two. In his mind there were people everywhere he went; invisible crowds, cheering and clapping him as he wandered from room to room. The sound of their dreamlike voices filled his ears like a strange white noise, one which drowned out even the sound of his own.

"Cheers," he slurred, saluting his invisible audience. He gulped down another mouthful of drink and attempted to take a step forward.

Losing his balance, he stumbled to the right and knocked a bright red fire extinguisher from the wall. The device clattered to the ground and began to spin in circles, emitting a strange and smoke-like gas that proceeded to fill the room. In his already weakened state he was easily overwhelmed. The pungent chemical stench was too much to bear. Stumbling back, he coughed a few times, raised his bottle in one final toast to his imaginary crowd, and collapsed onto the cold metal floor.

Meanwhile, Rimmer was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he and Lister just possibly might be the only two human beings left alive in the entirety of the universe, which, as you can imagine, was quite a big idea for one small man to ponder.

"So they're all dead," he asked for the tenth time.

"Yes, Arnold," sighed Holly.

"And the human race is extinct."

"Yes, Arnold."

Rimmer thought for a while. "If so," he said, "then how did Lister survive?"

"The stasis pods' sealing mechanisms are the safest known to man," Holly explained. "Nothing can get in, and nothing can get out. Since time is frozen inside the pod, radiation cannot pass through it and affect the subject inside." He sounded decidedly pleased with himself; this was one piece of information his core program had retained. "I simply reset the counter on the pod when we exited the Solar System, so he would not be released until the radiation reached a safe enough level."

Rimmer snapped his fingers. "Of course!" he said. "The stasis pods!" So _that's_ why he'd made it through the accident! He smiled to himself. The other technicians had laughed at his 'boothing'. He recalled, gritting his teeth, how they'd said it was a petty excuse for the simple fact that Rimmer's social life was, quite frankly, nonexistent. Rimmer had always staunchly opposed this notion. He'd told them time and time again, nose upturned, that he would enjoy socialising when he had a full five years of boothing clocked up – a full five years of not ageing. Then, he'd said, they'd see who's laughing. His reasoning was this: _Try going to the ship's disco when you're 80. It'll be a whole lot easier when you're only 75._

A red blip suddenly appeared on one of the Drive Room's monitors. The console nearby began to beep, the sound getting faster and more urgent. Rimmer was rapidly torn out of his thoughts. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure," said Holly. "The signal seems to be originating somewhere on C-Deck. He paused, "Hang on, I'm getting a picture." The screen jumped into life. It flooded with white; a choking, billowing white which enveloped the entirety of the camera's range. There was no floor, no ceiling, nothing of any identity. It was totally impenetrable.

"Well this certainly makes things a whole lot clearer," Rimmer sneered.

"What's wrong?" asked Holly.

"What is wrong, you goit," said Rimmer, "is that it would be a great deal better if we had a picture that _doesn't _look like primetime Spanish television."

Holly ignored the insult. "It's the best I can do, I'm afraid."

"So where is this?" Rimmer asked, hands on hips. The picture was strange, grainy; it moved and shifted, almost as if clouds of sand were swirling up in some alien Sahara.

"The shopping mall," said Holly. "The anti-fire system's been deployed. Dave must've activated a fire extinguisher. Revolutionary, those are."

"Revolutionary?"

"Right on," said Holly. "Problem is, they were meant to deal with large-scale fires - _big_ ones. That gas is capable of putting out a raging inferno, but also fills a room faster than it takes a ZX-81 to crash."

"Is it dangerous?" Rimmer didn't much like the thought of having to risk his own life because of his bunkmate's careless mistake. But something inside him worried for Lister's safety; maybe it was the fear of being totally alone in space with only a senile computer for company that forced him to ask the question; maybe it was something else entirely. But it was there.

"Not really," Holly replied. "Though in the state he was in, it's impossible to tell. He's had so much drink he's forgotten who I am, and keeps calling me Norman." He considered this for a moment. "Though I'm not complaining. I think it's a rather fetching name myself."

"What's _wrong_ with you, Holly?" snorted Rimmer. "We're discussing an urgent situation, not engaging in idle chit-chat!" Something was different about the balding computer; this was not the Holly he'd known before, the Holly who could answer countless questions at the blink of an eye. He seemed to have trouble answering even the simplest of queries without digressing from the topic at hand.

"I'm sorry," said Holly. "Three million years alone hasn't done wonders for my sanity chip. I'm wondering if it might be a little loose, to be perfectly honest."

"I'm betting it's a lot more than that." Rimmer folded his arms. "So who's going to go and fetch him? The skutters?"

Holly's answer came decidedly slow. "I think it might be best for you to go, Arnold."

Rimmer's face fell. He felt as if a ton of bricks had just been emptied from the cargo bay and dumped on top of him. "Me?" he said in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, "Why me?"

"He's in desperate need of company. I thought the sight of a human face might, well…cheer him up a little. Help him recover, get him back on his feet."

After a good few minutes of persuasion, Rimmer reluctantly agreed. Though in truth, this in part owed to the fact that he could not wait to see the look on Lister's face when he realised his superior was still around. In all of this turmoil and confusion, this was the one thing he secretly relished. _It'll take more than a nuclear explosion to bring me down_, he thought with a little smile. _You can't get rid of Arnold J. Rimmer that easily._

Holly sensed his impatience. "Arnold—"

"Not now, Holly," Rimmer interrupted him. He looked about the enormous room, thinking to himself. Three million years was a long time; who knows what sort of creatures he might find aboard the ship? Though he suspected his worries were mostly unfounded, he felt it best to be prepared. Squinting to see further, he noticed a rack of bazookoids at the far end of the room.

Holly tried again, "But Arnold—"

"Holly, whatever it is, it can wait," Rimmer said, waving his hand dismissively at the monitor. Holly rolled his eyes. It was clear the hologram was in no mood to listen.

Rimmer approached the weapon rack. He'd never had use for a bazookoid before; they were mainly of use in the larger engineering jobs, when an explosive force was required to clear an area or open a stubborn weld. They looked simple enough; a few buttons in assorted colours ran down their sides, labelled clearly in both English and Esperanto, and a large hand-grip was fixed to the top to help the wielder manage their immense weight. He chose the one nearest to him and reached for the handle.

And that was when Rimmer realised that something was Very Wrong Indeed.

_To be continued…_

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Yes, it's an evil cliffhanger! XD 

Please review:)I've loved reading your reviews so far! I'd really like to know what you think of this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

For the disclaimer, please see the first chapter.

A/N: Well, Chapter 3 is finally here! I apologise profusely for the delay! But I really hope you enjoy this! Chapter 4, the final chapter, will be coming very shortly afterward! So please keep checking up on this fic! Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! This has been my most-ever reviewed story! I loved reading all you had to say! Here are my replies!

**Zombie Kitty: **Thanks ZK! I'm glad you like that line! There is indeed some angst in this chapter – hope you enjoy it! I tried not to be overly angsty though as I have that tendency sometimes (!)

**Henry: **Thank you so much! That was such a kind comment! I'm so glad you thought it was well-written! You made me blush! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!

**cazflibs: **Thank you! Hehe, sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! Uni work's come down on me like a ton of bricks! But I hope it's been worth the wait!

**Sunrise over the Tango factory: **Thanks so much! Indeed, knowing Rimmer I wouldn't expect him to take it all that well either! I know I wouldn't if I were him! Hehe! I hope you enjoy his reaction!

**Lady Draco:** Hey there! Thanks so much for leaving a review here, too! You spurred me on to write more of this through your comment in my LJ! Thanks so much for giving me that extra kick I needed to get going! Hehe! Hope you enjoy!

**Draco the Lizard: **Hehe, all my friends come here! I'm so glad I got them in-character! That's one of the best comments I can get! And you're right, it's great fun filling in blanks from the books! I love doing that!

**cravat: **Thanks muchly! I'm really glad you're enjoying it so far, and that you like my writing style! I hope you enjoy this chapter too!

**Star-Stallion: **Hehe, cliffhangers are nasty things, aren't they? Luckily this chapter doesn't end on such a cliffy note! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story – hope you like this chapter too!

**Alankria: **Wow, thank you! Your comments really made me blush! I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far! I'd love to know what you think of this chapter! Thanks so much for your kind reviews!

And now, without further ado, it's the long-due third chapter!

**This is the First Day of the Rest of Your Death**

**--Chapter Three--**

At first, he didn't know what to think. He simply stood there, his impatience melting into complete and utter bewilderment at what had just taken place.

His hand hadn't gripped the handle of the bazookoid, but fell directly through it as if the weapon were nothing but an illusion, some trick of the light where there was nothing but thin air. He pulled his arm back, aghast, and racked his mind for something, anything, that would make sense of this impossible predicament. Nothing came.

Feeling a feverish sense of panic, he examined his palm. It looked perfectly normal down to the finest detail. He couldn't understand it. Bringing up his other hand, he pressed his finger hard against the seemingly phantom limb. It was solid – solid as it had ever been. What on Io was going on?

And then it dawned on him.

_Oh, please, no._

Desperately he reached for the bazookoid again, once more to have his hand swipe through the metal as if he were clutching at an impossible mirage. It was a strange, foreign sensation; his fingers tingled uncomfortably, sending painful shock waves through his arm and shooting down his spine. Defeated, he withdrew for a second time. Holly watched as Rimmer stood, rather shakily, his eyes wide and bulging. For a long while he was silent. Then, with a great sense of finality, the hologram drew in a tight, sharp breath and raised both hands to his forehead.

Rimmer hated his H. Not a day went by when he would not stop to curse the man who insisted that holograms be required them in their programming; that they should carry them like some hideous birthmark wherever they went. A second chance at life should be considered a blessing; this morbid stamp made it a curse. It was the mark of the deceased, the dearly departed, the gone-but-not-forgotten; why on God's earth, Rimmer would think, should he be forced to suffer the constant reminder of this fact? What had he done? Had he ever committed a crime so great as to merit so painful a punishment?

As he ran his fingers around it for the first time, the foremost thing he noticed was that it stuck welded to his forehead like iron. The second was that it felt like plastic - a smooth, slippery, artificial texture – but as he soon found out, there was no force great enough in the universe to pry it from his skin. He tried to claw his fingers around its sides, but found nowhere for them to go.

"I'm sorry, Arnold," said Holly. Although his face filled the entire monitor, he did not look up, and his eyes remained fixed to the ground.

"_Sorry?_" The lump in Rimmer's throat was painfully obvious. "_Sorry?_ Is that it?" He moved his hands to his sides, fingers tensing. His voice shook as he pointed at the screen, "_Sorry_," he emphasised the word with a lemon sourness, "is what you say to people dressed in black, mourning over someone who has passed on; kicked the bucket; popped their clogs." He scowled at Holly's unblinking face, "I've popped more clogs than the whole of Amsterdam." The words caught in his throat. "_And you knew all along, didn't you_."

"I'm a tenth-generation AI computer, not a counsellor," Holly replied, rather more matter-of-factly than Rimmer would have liked. "It's all I've got to go on, I'm afraid."

Rimmer creased his brow. "Why," he asked, his voice seething with both anger and misery, "didn't you tell me about it earlier? Surely you could have granted me that. Or is even something that small too complicated for your superior intelligence to grasp?" The words slipped sarcasm-filled from his tongue.

"Look," said Holly. "I think we're beginning to lose sight of the situation here." Rimmer was having none of it.

"The situation," he interrupted, "is that I have just found out that I am, in fact, _dead_." He folded his arms. "Now I don't know about you, but I think that's quite an important event in my life!"

Holly ignored his contradiction. "Arnold, it is imminent that you get to the mall as quickly as possible."

Rimmer scowled, "Oh, is that it?" He turned his back on the monitor and began to pace somewhat aimlessly about the drive room, his arms folded behind his back, his fingers writhing angrily. "Welcome back Arnie – oh, and by the way, you've snuffed it - now go and help your rather more _alive_ companion?" The resentment he felt at Lister doubled, then tripled as his rage began to build. If there were some higher being up there, he thought, they certainly had it in for a certain Rimmer, Arnold J. He'd be on their blacklist in ten-foot letters, underlined in bright red marker, his fate sealed in some sort of divine bureaucracy that hung over him year after year.

"The gas readings are increasing," said Holly, his voice more urgent this time. "If he doesn't get help soon, there'll be no-one alive on this ship at all."

"Well you can count me out," Rimmer replied. "Oh, and if you need me," he added cynically, "I'll be busy planning my own funeral." But despite the acid in his voice, as the words left his lips he felt a pang of guilt surge through him. Guilt was not something he felt terribly often - that honour was reserved primarily for pomposity, envy and haughtiness – but this struck him hard, as if the point of a weapon had been thrust through his body. He already had the deaths of the crew on his conscience; was he really prepared to add another to the tally?

Holly sighed a virtual sigh; it was time to resort to drastic measures. "Arnold," he said, "I have access to all hologrammatic and medical databases aboard this ship."

Rimmer raised an eyebrow impatiently, "So?"

"So," said Holly, "unless you want an enormous boil as irritating as your average reality TV star throbbing constantly on the back of your neck, you should go and help him."

At this, Rimmer's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared to almost double their normal width. He thrust his finger at the screen, "_Right!_" His voice reached a ludicrously high pitch. "That's your plan, is it? Just you wait until the Captain hears about this. I'll –" He paused in mid sentence, realising the futility of his statement. He sighed in annoyed defeat, "Just you wait."

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Rimmer sat in one of Red Dwarf's Xpress Lifts, legs crossed, head leant back against the rim of his seat. Across the lift, which was almost the size of his bunkroom, two of the ship's working skutters beeped and whirred, opening and closing their claw-like beaks at each other as if in some kind of conversation.

He'd already been there half an hour. Red Dwarf's enormous shopping mall spanned ten vast floors of the ship, but it was still a huge distance from the Drive Room. He checked his watch for the second time in as many minutes.

The enormity of the situation was only just beginning to settle in his mind. But the strangest thing of all, stranger than finding out that the entire human race was extinct, stranger than discovering that Lister was the sole survivor, was that everything felt so utterly _normal_. He didn't look any different; he still had the same emotions, the same reactions; in fact, he was the same down to the finest detail.

Except for the fact that he was dead.

_I've got to look on the bright side,_ he thought to himself, rather unconvincingly. Rimmer wasn't an optimist. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought anything remotely optimistic. When he walked confidently into the room of the Astronavigation exam, he only did so to hide the fact that he was totally and utterly terrified of that three-hour paper. But he had to try. After all, what else was there to do?

_I've outlived my brothers_, he mused. Then he decided that 'outlived' probably wasn't the right word. Outdied? No, that was stupid. He scrapped the idea and started again. A deep and painful bitterness began to collect in his stomach. What was he doing? After he'd got Lister out of this mess, what the smeg would happen then? Lister certainly wouldn't want a neurotic dead man for company!

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A/N: Please review! I'd love to know what you thought of it! 


	4. Chapter 4

For the disclaimer, please see the first chapter.

A/N: Okay, here's the final chapter of this fanfic! I really hope you enjoy the rest of it! It's slightly shorter than the rest of the chapters (I split my original chapter 3 into two as it became too long by itself) - but hopefully it'll hold its own! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I really thank everyone for leaving such kind and supportive reviews. You're the best, guys!

**Zombie Kitty: **Thank you so much! Hehe, good luck with your mock exam! I know what those are like – nasty things! But I am sure you'll do great! Hope you like this chapter!

**Alankria:** That's what I love about the hologram technology – there's a lot left unexplained! What I meant by the bit you mentioned was that his light feed was being disrupted by the object. Hehe, I love to take artistic license with those things! But I'm really glad you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for the constructive crit - I hope that you like this one too!

**prepare4trouble: **Thank you so much! Hehe, I thought someone else would have come up with the same idea somewhere down the line! I'm really glad you're enjoying the fic – I'd really like to know what you think of the ending!

**Sunrise over the Tango factory: **Thanks muchly! I'm so glad you think that about the characterisation – that's always what's most important to me! Hope you enjoy this next and final part!

**reddwarfaddict: **Wow, thanks for your reviews of all three chapters! I'm glad the story was addictive! This is the final chapter of this fic, but I have another fic I want to begin shortly and that I have a lot of ideas for! Hope you enjoy!

So, without further ado…

**This is the First Day of the Rest of Your Death**

**--Chapter Four--**

Rimmer was scared of death - which, being dead, was a rather silly concept - but he still felt it. He couldn't ask Holly to turn him off. _I'll just have to stick it out_, he thought. He needed a drive, something to keep him going. But what was there to do on a mining ship three million years into space? Perhaps, he decided, he could pick up Esperanto again. He could still listen to Reggie Wilson. Being dead wouldn't limit his Morris Dancing.

The lift hostess, a woman in a blue uniform with a smile permanently plastered onto her face, appeared on the vid-screen. "We have approximately two hours until we reach our destination," she beamed. "Thank you for travelling with Xpress Lifts." She disappeared, and the screen fizzled out to a rather plain corporate logo. Two hours, Rimmer thought to himself. Two hours in which to boost himself up, get some motivation. _Surely_ he could do that.

He moped the rest of the way.

* * *

"Welcome to the Red Dwarf shopping mall," the hostess said cheerily. "If anybody in the lift is asleep, please do not hesitate to wake them up. Buckets of cold water are available on request." She motioned toward the left-hand side of the screen.

"Off," Rimmer yawned, getting up from his seat. The screen reverted to the logo. As he rose from his chair, Rimmer stretched, as if he had just walked out from the screening of a particularly long and boring movie. Sighing, he signalled to the skutters, "Come on, you two." As much as he would have denied it, Rimmer felt nervous. He wasn't sure why. It was the sort of anticipation that only comes before a meeting; the sort that erupts in one's stomach like a whole greenhouse full of butterflies. He stepped out of the lift and followed the overhead sign in the direction of the mall. The skutters whirred behind him.

The Red Dwarf shopping mall, with its neon signs and enormous advertising boards, was as intimidating as one of Earth's long-lost jungles. Benches, bins, dead plants that looked as plain as sticks; each was equally haunting. But what was worse was the silence. Rimmer wasn't overly familiar with the place. He'd been there once or twice, but it wasn't a regular trip. This was a foreign land to him. With a rather smug smile, he compared himself to Napoleon, embarking on a daring and dangerous campaign. True, Britain and Prussia weren't out to kill him. But it was the same sort of concept.

"Holly?" he called out, "Whereabouts is he?"

Holly's voice echoed through the mall's speakers. "Keep going straight," he said. "You'll reach him eventually."

Rimmer sighed irritably, "Can't you be any more specific?"

"I'd be lying if I said I could."

Rimmer narrowed his eyes and muttered something to himself. He turned to the skutters, "Keep up, you two." When he had turned around, the two mechanical service-droids beeped knowingly at each other. They hadn't taken orders in three million years. It was difficult to get back into the habit.

Eventually, and after a fair walk, they reached the edge of the gas cloud. Holly was right; it was impenetrable. Rimmer squinted. Through the thick, white plumes, he could see less than a few feet. After a moment of deliberation, he edged his way into the gloom. He knew it wouldn't affect him, and yet something warned him of a danger that didn't exist. It would, he thought, take him a while to get used to this. The skutters followed, setting their headlights to their full, red beam.

"How far now, Holly?" Rimmer asked after ten minutes lost in the smoke. It had become so thick that he could barely see a thing. He blinked repeatedly in an effort to see further.

"Not far," Holly replied. It was strange hearing a voice in the middle of such nothingness. "My scanners have picked him up. A couple of hundred feet at most."

"Right," Rimmer looked down at the skutters clouded in smoke, "you heard him. Stay with me." He took some more confident steps forward. As he got closer, he began to call out. "Lister!" No reply. "For smeg's sake, where the smeg are you?"

"There!" Holly's voice sounded jubilant as it reverberated about the room. "Found 'im. Twenty feet northwest." Rimmer waded through the smoke, which was now so thick that it resembled a blizzard, his head jerking from side to side in an attempt to spot his bunkmate. It was, after all, so murky that he could easily walk right past him. He was fed up, irritated and utterly frustrated, and this clearly painted itself in his expression. When he got back, he decided, he'd treat himself to that bottle of vintage champagne he'd bought from a collector but had never had the courage to open. Then he remembered he couldn't, and his scowl deepened further.

"Lister!" he called again. "Lis-" He stopped short as one of the skutters beeped somewhere in front of him.

Following the sound, he came across what he had been searching for all along - the fallen figure of his bunkmate. Even through the gloom, Rimmer could see that he was sprawled across the floor, his mouth hanging limply open. The shards of a broken bottle intermingled with his locks and lay scattered across the ground. What was left of a very strong whisky formed an amber-tinted puddle beside him.

So this, Rimmer thought to himself, is the last human being in the universe.

* * *

It had taken several hours to drag Lister's drunken body back to the medi-bay. Each skutter had taken tight hold of a trouser leg, and together they had made the difficult journey out of the snowstorm-like gas cloud and down to the medical deck. Lister lay on a stretcher in the middle of the bay. Through Holly's guidance and the help of the skutters, he was wired up to a complicated-looking machine, which beeped and buzzed worryingly every second.

Rimmer chewed on one of his fingernails, "How is he?"

Holly's face watched intently from the monitor. "It's looking good. I think he'll pull through."

"Hm," Rimmer grunted in reply. He looked at the figure sprawled out on the stretcher. _He doesn't know how lucky he is_, he thought. _The goit._ But beneath his cynicism, Rimmer was worried. Would Lister get so fed up with him that he'd ask Holly to turn him off? No, he consolled himself. Holly must have brought him back for a reason. There was no danger of that.

"Hold on a mo," said Holly, interrupting his thoughts. "I think he's coming around." Rimmer paced slowly to the side of the stretcher as Lister began to groan a long, tired groan. Rimmer sneered. The only man on the ship to look a full year younger than his actual age cut down in his prime, whilst this slob, (barely qualifying as human at all, he thought wryly), survived. But that was the way of things. It was always the way of things. He just had to make the most of it.

Lister blinked blearily, his head spinning for what seemed like an age. When the dizziness faded, he realised straight away that he didn't know where he was. What had happened? His head felt as heavy as a sack full of bricks. He glanced to his left. And that was when he noticed the man standing over him, looking down at him with absolute disdain. The man with the H on his forehead.

_Rimmer?_

Holly sensed Rimmer's misery. He smiled knowingly, and with a few tweaks to his program, gently placed a thought into the hologram's mind.

_Maybe this was just the drive he'd been looking for._

**THE END

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading my fanfic! I really appreciate your interest in my writing!


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